Too Late
by Kaibo Ma
Summary: Hermione is dead, and Draco is slowly losing his mind. After the first chapter, there's a massive flashback which should explain everything and then it goes back to the future. DMHG fanfic.
1. The Beginning of the End

**Author's Note: This is my first fanfic so helpful comments and reviews will be greatly appreciated! Please point out any mistakes and I will fix them asap!**

He rocked back and forth, legs drawn up to his chest, arms clasped around it. "It's too late, it's too late," He moaned quietly to himself, eyes squeezed shut so tight it hurt. His silver-blond hair flopped lifelessly around his face, which was pressed into his knees.

Pansy Parkinson knelt down beside him and shook his shoulder slightly. A full grown woman of twenty now, she had outgrown the pug-like look of her school-days, much described as an ugly duckling which had ascended to beauty in time. Her raven hair was tied up in a neat ponytail, and her voice was no longer shrill, but gentle and soft, as she talked to the broken man next to her.

"Draco, stop it. It's alright, it's over. Come on, get up. We'll change you out of these dirty clothes," She soothed. Having long ago abandoned the idealistic notion of Draco harbouring any romantic feelings for her, or indeed any feelings at all, she had settled into a motherly role, pampering and spoiling him as much as his dear late mother, Narcissa, had. Lucius, although having been a perfect husband, father and servant to the Dark Lord, nevertheless was never very open with his emotions to any, unlike his wife, preferring to stay aloof. They were however, always certain of his emotions through his actions.

Dracohad inherited his father's pride, his ability to maintain an expressionless façade, a strong impenetrable shield against the world, and his mother's honour, selflessness, seldom as it was to show, and kindness. From both, he inherited their shrewdness, grace and oddly, love. But having Lucius for a father quashed any chance of that love finding a place for most of his childhood life, save for the part reserved for his parents themselves, and it had remained buried deep within him until it had been brought out in his full glory, bringing about at the same time Lucius' downfall.

Draco didn't look up through all of Pansy's ministrations. She ordered a stray elf which wasn't clearing up the devastation to bring her a wet towel and some water. Bathing his forehead with cool water, she trickled some onto his dry, cracked lips. He inhaled sharply and looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. She gasped and averted her eyes at the pain and confusion in them. His mind was reeling in shock. Suddenly his eyes unfocused, then refocused, unusually sharp. He looked as though he was looking right through her, looking right through everything, butseeing them at the same time.

"Where's Hermione?" He asked in a completely normal voice.

"Hermione?" She repeated breathlessly. "She's-she's-"

"Where is my wife?" He stood up straight, tall. He smoothed back his hair authoritatively and strode away, looking for her. Pansy scrambled to her feet and ran after him, standing right in his way, halting him effectively.

"Hermione," She said slowly, "is dead. Hermione is dead."

"Hermione is dead," He repeated after her, scorn in his voice. "I'm sure she is. What lie have the bastards concocted now to keep her from me?" He began to turn away.

"Hermione is dead!" She shouted in his face. He ignored her and she slapped him. "Do you want proof?" She signalled the nearest elf and asked her. "Holly, is Hermione dead?"

The house-elf glanced at Draco worriedly, but nodded. "Yes Miss Pansy, Mistress Hermione is dead." Tears welled up in her large bulbous eyes. "We is very sorry for your loss, Mister Draco." She scurried away hastily as a dawning look of horror and devastation fell upon his face.

"No!" He cried out, hands to his head. "She isn't dead!" Falling to his knees, he thrashed violently with the demons in his head, twisting and writhing. "She isn't dead!" Pansy fell to the ground next to him, hands everywhere, trying to ease his agony. "She isn't dead." He wept unashamedly, his movements slowing, his breath reverting to the ragged, despairing tone he had before his lapse into the past.

_Hermione, in her beautiful white dress, drifting up the aisle, eyes fixed on him._

"Hermione is dead," Pansy told him softly, her heart aching to see him in such pain.

_Hermione laughing, her braided hair swinging, throwing her arms around his neck._

"Hermione is dead," He repeated, anguish evident in every syllable. "Hermione" He gasped for air, "is" The knuckles of his hands, clutched in his hair, went white with the effort to stay conscious, "dead."

_Hermione and their son, Artel, smiling in the picture he is about to take for his first birthday._

Pansy bent her head, unable to see his condition throughout the tears swimming in her own eyes. "Oh Draco," She whispered.

_Hermione crying out his name in ecstasy, tossing her head back so her eyes lock with his as they make love._

"Hermione. Is. Dead."

_Hermione screaming out, "I love you!" as the abhorrent green light shooting out of Voldemort's wand hit her body._

He fainted.

**Short first chapter here... I wasn't sure how to write a piece like this. It usually just flows out of me and I had quite a hard time thinking about this one. Review and I'll update :) but I've got exams and stuff coming up so... might be some time XD. Please review! I'll give you cookies and milk :D**

**Kaibo Ma**


	2. Ignorance is Bliss

A/N : I read this and realised that the title makes no sense whatsoever. But I had no idea what else to call it so... XD enjoy. And sorry for the wait between first and second... exams, events and other things beginning with me hampered my writing :D

Disclaimer: if Harry Potter was mine I wouldn't be here, would i?

Hermione strolled along the corridor, deep in thought. Her arms clutched a book to herself, her bag hanging off one shoulder as usual. She paused, frowned, then aimed her wand at the heavy bag, muttering a spell to lighten the weight.

"Oh it's you, Granger," A cold voice drawled. "I had rather thought it was someone worth my attention." Draco Malfoy stalked around the corner, towards her.

"You're patrolling tonight, Malfoy," She replied sharply.

"So are you," He pointed out. "Is my presence really that irresistible?"

"I'd much rather not," She retorted, coolly. "I'm sure Harry and I could arrange for a swap – he can patrol with you instead," She added sweetly.

"Like I'm going anywhere near Saint Potter," He spat. "If you swap with him, I'll swap with someone else." They continued like this for another five minutes, glaring daggers at each other, hardly caring about their plans, just wanting to hurt the other somehow.

"Only other prefect free at this short notice is Ron," She told him.

"Fine, I'll swap with him and you can swap with Potter!" He cried, exasperated. "That way we both get out of patrolling and I don't have to see your mudblood face again!"

SMACK.

He staggered back, amazed. His right cheek flamed scarlet as he brought his hand dazedly to his face and felt it gingerly.

"Did you just _slap _me, Granger?" His voice was devoid of sarcasm or malice for once and was filled with shock.

She looked just as surprised as he did. She glanced down at her palm, which was also red, then looked back at him, her mouth opening and closing silently, like a goldfish. "I – I didn't mean to," She whispered weakly.

"Like hell you didn't!" He had recovered his composure and his back straightened, face moving back into its former unrelenting, unyielding facade.. "You can be assured I will report this to Professor Snape." His voice was once again icy and threatening.

"You do that," She snapped at him, her own angry demeanor returning. "I asked you – politely – to not call me that anymore, yet you persist in doing so." Her voice shook with fury. "I told you there would be consequences. Harry and I have _tried _to be friends with you, or at least civil, but you throw our efforts back in our faces! I accept that you are who you are but that doesn't mean you have to rub your heritage in! Many people in this school _don't care_, Malfoy, and I sincerely doubt many care for _you._" So saying, she spun on her heel and swiftly moved out of sight.

"Are you sure, Hermione?" Harry asked concernedly. "I don't want you to be alone with that scumbag." She had just finished telling Harry and Ron about her encounter with Malfoy earlier.

"Yes, I'm sure. He said he was going to swap with someone anyway, so hopefully I won't have to see him at all until tomorrow."

"Well, if you say so..." Ron looked unconvinced.

"I _am _Head Girl, and this is my duty," She replied stubbornly. "What would it look like if I shirked it because I didn't like my patrolling partner?"

"I'm sure no one would give a damn, Hermione," Harry smiled. "But if you're set on setting a good example... it's fine with me."

"Just make sure you come back without any trouble, OK?" Ron grinned at her too.

"And as for you being Head Girl – remember I'm Head Boy, and my priority right now is to ensure you're safe," Harry added.

"Don't remind me," She groaned.

"Oi!" Harry cried indignantly. "I'm not that bad! Better me than Malfoy!"

"Yeah... but still..." She laughed as he picked up a pillow, looking mock murderous.

"You'll pay for that one, Hermione Granger," He warned, throwing a pillow to the other two.

"Bring it on!" Ron roared, swiping at her with his pillow. She yelped and ducked, swinging hers at his legs. It had no impact whatsoever and he grinned down at her. She scrambled out of the way – right into Harry.

The pillow fight was sadly interrupted by a harassed looking McGonagall.

"Miss Granger, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley," She said, in her strict, tired-sounding voice.

They all looked up. "Yes Professor?"

"To Professor Dumbledore's office. Now. He needs to talk to you all – urgently."

"Professor Dumbledore, what is it?" Harry burst out as soon as they went through the door. Dumbledore looked up from where he was surveying his fingers. His half moon spectacles twinkled. His eyes didn't. Ignoring Harry, he turned his gaze on Ron.

"Mr Weasley," He said solemnly. "I'm so very, very sorry for your loss." The red head froze.

"What?" He asked sharply. Hermione felt a horrible sense of foreboding settle around her. She glanced at Harry. He looked like he was dreading Dumbledore's next word as well.

Dumbledore didn't speak for a long moment.

"What?" Ron repeated, loudly. His fists were clenched, like he knew it was bad news.

"Your parents are dead." Just like that, their world came crashing down around them.

Ron slumped in the armchair by the fire. It was low and flickering, casting shadows over everything in the common room. It looked like they felt. Ron stared at his hands, the other two dropping into seats either side of him.

"Ron," Hermione choked, her voice thick with tears. "Ron – I'm so sorry!"

"Yeah," Harry said quietly. "We're really sorry. I mean – I don't know what to say."

"They're dead. They're gone," Ron averted his gaze to the fire. "They were killed on Order business. They were killed because of – because of Dumbledore." His voice was devoid of emotion. Hermione felt the sense of foreboding grow even heavier.

"What?" Harry asked incredulously.

"_They died because of Dumbledore!_" He jumped to his feet, his face scarlet with anger. "_They're dead because of him – I'll kill him!_" Harry was reminded forcibly of his behaviour when Sirius was killed before he leapt up and grabbed Ron.

"No! Don't!" Hermione was on her feet as well, seizing his other arm.

"Ron! Please don't do this to yourself," She sobbed, tears running down her face. At the sight of her Ron suddenly seemed to come back to his senses. He stared hopelessly at her for a moment, then pulled her into his arms and cried along with her. Harry felt his own eyes well up with tears and he hugged Hermione as well. They all stood there in a triangle until well after the fire had burned itself out.

"I thought you swapped," Were Hermione's first words when she saw Malfoy leaning casually on the stair banister.

"Weasley seemed a bit... preoccupied when I asked him," The Slytherin said maliciously.

Hermione's heart sank. What had Malfoy said?

"He looked like he was crying, the coward," He continued disdainfully. "I know the idea of patrolling with you is horrible, Granger, but even I wouldn't show my weakness like-"

"Don't say another word, Malfoy," She snarled fiercely, fists clenched. "Don't you dare say another word!"

"Excuse me?" He demanded, eyes almost popping out in shock. "Are you ordering me to shut up?" He looked so indignant that Hermione almost laughed.

"Exactly," She strode past him. "Shut up." Malfoy followed her in silence. She couldn't tell if it was because he was shocked speechless, or if he had finally realised what was good for him and did what she said. Either way, she didn't feel like turning around and seeing for herself. She thought about Ron, and tears welled up in her eyes thinking about the Weasleys. They didn't deserve to die, She thought fiercely. What did they ever do to you, Voldemort? Why do you always pick on innocent people?

"Granger," He said quietly.

"What." Her voice was flat. She halted, head down so she wouldn't see her tears.

"They weren't innocent."

"What?" Her head snapped up.

"You heard me," He walked up beside her, refusing to meet her eyes.

"How could you – how did you know – how _dare _you!" Hermione spluttered.

"Is that all you can say nowadays?" He asked conversationally, still not looking at her.

"Don't change the subject!" She snarled. "How can you tell I was thinking about them?"

"You're crying," He stated briskly. "You don't cry about trivial things, Hermione," He added, his voice gentler. "You cry about something that changes your life, or something that makes you happy, or something that hurts." He looked down at his feet, seemingly embarrassed.

She stared at him, her throat somehow restricted.

"And I can tell you that the Weasleys most definitely were not innocent," He met her gaze then, his eyes defiant, shining silver. He believed what he was saying, at least.

"How?" She choked out, through the unknown obstacle in her throat. "How can you prove that? Because I must say, Malfoy, your behaviour towards Ron was nothing short of atrocious!"

"My behaviour towards Ron Weasley was the same to his when they slaughtered all my sisters!" He yelled at her, suddenly furious. "But he never told you that, did he? No, all the family secrets are hidden away from you, because they wanted the most brilliant witch in decades on their side."

She backed away from him, hands fumbling to find something to clutch onto. Her legs were suddenly weak.

"What?" She asked hoarsely.

"Maybe I shouldn't tell you," He growled. "Go ask your wonderful Weasel, why don't you? He's the one with all the answers. He's the one who's _suffering_."

"Tell me!" She cried, her mind reeling in confusion.

He smirked at her, his anger simmering beneath his infuriating demeanor. "Curiosity killed the cat, Granger."

"And satisfaction brought it back," She whispered. "But I'm not a cat," She replied, somewhat mindlessly. _Anymore, _a voice in her head reminded her.

"That's not the point." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Well... is it better to taunt you mercilessly or let you know the truth about your beloved Ron?" His voice was horribly spiteful towards the end, filled with loathing.

"Draco, I-"

"You want me to tell you?" He asked suddenly. "Do you want to know? Because it'll hurt, Hermione, it'll hurt like hell." _Back to first names, are we?_ She thought. When she remained silent, he started talking quickly, and fast. Taking her hand, he pulled her along the corridor. She was too confused to protest, but on the other hand, he was being gentle.

"Your precious Weasleys like their secrets," He ranted to her, his voice hateful and biting. "They were all involved... all of them, from that ridiculous, muggle-loving disgrace down to the Weaselette. This wasn't that long ago, either. If they had any conscience they would have apologized, or asked for a truce, or told you, at least, even. But no – they wanted to _refund_ us for our loss – as if the lives of my sisters could have been bought!" His voice was loud, and furious.

"I don't-" Once again he interrupted her.

"You want the full story? Fine!" He whipped out his wand, closing his eyes in exasperation as she cringed. Conjuring two chairs, he muttered, "Why are people always convinced I'll hex them or something?" He put his hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her down onto the chair. He sat down on the others and held her hands tightly in his. "You can't repeat this to anyone, okay?" He asked seriously.

"Who do you think I am?" Hermione snapped back, pulling her hands back. "I'm willing to listen to this, this _story_ or fable, but I'm not going to spread it around if it isn't true-" His eyes darkened in anger and she stopped, suddenly frightened. His hands gripped hers even tighter.

"You don't know how true this story is," He gritted out through clenched teeth. He closed his eyes in an effort to keep his temper. "It was – it was last year. I have, well, I _used _to have five sisters. You know why we always said that the Weasleys bred like rabbits? All the purebloods have as many children as possible, to ensure the line goes on in case any die. And my family, being as unpopular as it is, is very prone to being killed off. My grandfather, Abraxus, was the only boy in twelve to not be killed by Aurors. My sisters, they – they were all younger than me. I feel responsible, do you know that? It was during a mission for Voldemort, my father called it," He snarled, his lip curling in contempt when he mentioned Lucius. "It was a trap. And my father fell for it! Oh, how he fell for it."

"I never knew you had five sisters," Hermione whispered. "I thought you were an only child. You never mentioned them."

"They went to Beauxbatons," He whispered. "While I went to Hogwarts. Family tradition. Boys go to Hogwarts, girls to Beauxbatons. They were... so young. The twins, Angelic and Karigan, in 5th Year, Shianne in 4th Year, Kaibo in 3rd, Joy in 1st. You don't know how much it hurt to see their innocent faces so empty, or their small bodies twisted in agony. They had been whipped, Hermione, red welts down their backs, clotted with blood. Apparently Weasel held the whip himself," His lip curled instinctively, looking more like a grimace, as tears crawled down his face. She felt an overwhelming desire to wipe them away.

"Ron – he wouldn't -" She tried to defend her best friend, but he would have none of it.

"We're not supposed to know who did it," Draco carried on – when exactly had he become Draco, instead of Malfoy, for her? - drowning out her protests. "so we had to shut up and issue statements saying we had no leads, and stuff like that. The newspapers – the reporters were like vultures. They just didn't care that five of the most fantastic girls in the world were dead, they just cared about the story and how much they would be paid." More tears crept out of his eyes. Hermione didn't say anything. She couldn't. How could she possibly change such deep grief as this? "And to think... if I ever have children," He snorted in self-mockery, "they'll know them as the aunts who died when they were in their teens. They won't have people to turn to when they need it, won't have anywhere to stay should we go on holiday together and leave them behind, they won't have aunts to love them, they won't _know_ the lovely, wonderful people who should _not_ have been killed, much less by those unworthy, hateful, _blood traitors!_" His voice had risen – it echoed around the corridor.

"Hermione!" Ron skidded around the corner. She gasped and almost dragged her hands out of Draco's instinctively, but he held them tight. She stared at her friend, the look of shock and confusion on his face growing every second. She could see the scene through his eyes – her with Draco, holding hands, sitting on chairs. She could also hear his voice echo around the walls, "_-blood traitors!_" Would he think they were together? "What's ... what's going on?"

Hermione spoke first, her body overriding her mind. "Ron, I can explain..." A moment later, her mind screamed at her stupidity. _I can explain..._ Three words that incriminate the speaker immediately. The others were _This isn't what you look like. _She cringed inwardly as a moment later her mouth spewed out those words hurriedly.

"I can see perfectly fine," Ron said, his voice still confused, but with an angry edge to it as well.

Hermione opened her mouth. She could see Ron jumping to the completely wrong idea.

"Malfoy, get away from her," The redhead said sharply. His eyes were like splinters of ice. "Get away from her, you sadistic bastard!" He grabbed Hermione's arm. She broke out of her trance and ran to his side. "Don't ever come near her again, you understand?" He yelled at Draco.

The Slytherin just stared at them, his own eyes impassive. She involuntarily shuddered, seeing the complete lack of emotion in them. Seizing Ron's hand, she dragged him away. "Come on Ron, let's go back to the common room," She said, her distress showing in her voice.

Ron glared at Draco one more time, then turned his concerned eyes to her. He drew her away, checking her over. Hermione's wrists were red from the force of Draco's grip, her hands bruised. He growled deep in his throat as he saw the traces of violence.

"Please, Ron, don't," She pleaded with him. He stared at her.

"You're telling me that after what he's done, after he's injured you, frightened you, and done God knows what, you don't want to get him back?"

"Please, it will only make it worse," She sobbed, into the front of his robes. "And – and don't tell Harry, please!"

"Oh, Hermione," Ron grabbed her in a bear hug. She relaxed into it, the overwhelming sense of safety calming her down. They walked back to the common room, hand in hand, comfortable in each others' silence.

Two smouldering, silver eyes followed them all the way.

A/N: Read and review! tell me what I'm doing right, what I'm doing wrong, what I can do to make my writing better etc etc. Don't mind criticism... tell me all!


End file.
